


But Even Iron Trembles

by petaldancing



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/pseuds/petaldancing
Summary: Hifumi learns to lose. — AU where Hifumi joins the Phantom Thieves.





	But Even Iron Trembles

**Author's Note:**

> There is no graceful way to comeback and write fic after 3 years. I simply fell in love with Hifumi, with the potential of HIfumi/Makoto, and I felt unsatisfied with how her confidant was resolved. So, here's my take! 
> 
> Note: In-game spoilers up to the 5th Palace! A warning for emotional manipulation between parent/child applies as well.

Her head was throbbing. Horribly.

Piercing yellow eyes glared at her, daring her to disobey. 

She was surrounded by a group of people who were never supposed to get involved in the first place.

And Makoto had a dire look in her eyes.

Hifumi’s throat was dry. Her hands were still trembling. She knew it was now or never.

She raised one arm and took a deep breath.

“I summon the Ultimate Excalibur Blade! Come to my side!”

But nothing came. No holy blade. No risen warrior with a noble stead at their side. Her empty hand was left shaking, grasping at thin air.

“…. What was that?!” Sakamoto broke the silence with his exasperated shout.

Hifumi felt her heart plummet.

“Look out!”

Makoto leapt infront of her as the Shadows reformed into even more horsewomen. One of them charged forward, intent on using her spear to plow through.

Makoto let out a pained yell as she took the full brunt of the physical attack. Hifumi felt an awful twist in her gut as Makoto was sent flying backwards at an alarming speed. Instinctively, she reached her arms out and caught Makoto. But that was not enough to stop the force of the blow. Hifumi’s bare ankles skidded against the floor and buckled under the pressure. An immense force exploded at the back of her head as they finally hit the ground.

Was this what it was like to be able to feel every bone in your body? 

Someone was cradling her head, checking frantically for blood.

“Joker! We’ve got to get out of here, now!”

… Hifumi had lost.

★  
★  
★

The first time Hifumi played shogi, she had expected it be her last.

She ran out into the living room, beckoned by her father’s announcement that he had bought a new game for her to play.

Hifumi was hoping that it was a game that came with dice and had a fantasy theme. If it involved righteous knights, evil warlocks and all-out conquering, that would seal the deal.

Instead, what her father laid out in front of her was a run-of-the-mill shogi board.

She had seen this game countless of times before, but didn’t know the rules behind it. She couldn’t even read some of the kanji inscribed on the pieces. The only thing she did know was that her father held a professional title in it. To her, that just meant that he spent an awful lot of time playing it by himself in his study. He was always in a state of deep concentration when he was shuffling pieces around, alternating between jotting notes down and resetting his moves. Her mother had taught her not to go barging in on him during these periods, which was more often than not.

“Shogi?” Hifumi asked to be polite, but was already crossing her arms.

Her mother looked up from the glossy magazine she was reading and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t she a little too young for this? Don’t go forcing it on Hifumi if she doesn’t like it,” she tutted.

“You’ve got to start them young, Mitsuko.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Her mother went back to flipping through the magazine.

If her mother wasn’t excited about it, Hifumi didn’t feel inclined to be either. She stood idly beside the dining table, swinging back and forth on the balls of her feet, wondering why her father wanted to teach her an old, boring game for adults. He knew what she liked: dragons, monsters, magic and the triumphant hero. He was the one who bought her new figurines and trading cards to add to her collection. Even though he lost track and came back from the convenience store with the same booster pack sometimes, Hifumi didn’t mind collecting duplicates.

But her father seemed confident that he could win her over. He beckoned her to come closer and sit next to him.

“Now, Hifumi, it may look boring to you, but all you need are some powerful all-seeing eyes.”

“Hm.” She was seven, not gullible.

“Don't think of this has a game board. Think of it as a battlefield. Only the sharpest of minds and strongest of hearts will emerge victorious.” Her father had put on his storytelling voice, and try as she might, she couldn't resist a well-spun story.

“Think of each pieces as troops in your army, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. It's up to you as their queen to lead them to victory against the ultimate evil,” he spoke carefully, deepening his voice so that it sounded like he was reciting a prophecy.

Hifumi leaned forward, examining the pieces on the board and imagining great soldiers rising out of them, each bearing a different name, rank and weapon. Some weren't even entirely human.

“Why would I be the queen?” Her question was tentative. She had always loved making up stories with her figurines, but she’d never imagined herself to be part of the epic tale. The idea made her insides bubble with excitement.

“Because all armies need a ruler, and a good ruler needs to have the brains of a strategist and the heart of ten lions,” her father explained.

“You mean a dragon’s heart! Their hearts are worth a hundred lion hearts!” Hifumi sat up in the chair, determined to prove once and for all that dragons were the superior creature. They could fly and breathe fire. There was no competition.

Her father laughed, “Well, do you want to try your hand at being a commander, Hifumi?”

She looked at her father, at the kindness in the crinkle of his eyes and the gentle way he held out the white ‘king’ piece between his thumb and index finger to her. She was seven and she already knew she could never disappoint him.

“I'll try. Just this once.”

★

She was cast onto the crowded floor without so much as a pep talk beforehand. Dozens of children scurried back and forth between their parents and the shogi boards. Her own mother was waving to her from the audience. She was holding onto a video camera, much like the other young parents at the neighbourhood competition. “For your father,” her mother had said simply, before sending her off into battle.

The hall fell silent as the competition commenced. Hifumi could see her mother mouthing words of encouragement to her, but she was distracted by how sweaty her palms had gotten and how the person opposite her was sizing her up.

By luck of the draw, she had been pitted against a boy two years older than her. Intimidated, she spent most of the match with her eyes glued to the board, never looking up. This was the first time she was playing against someone other than her father. To keep her wits, she whispered to her troops as she scattered them across the board, investing each piece with great power. She even called out all the attacks she had memorised to heart with every capture she pulled off, much to the puzzlement of her opponent.

But, her inexperience and overconfidence ultimately decided the match. The boy successfully swept up her king after distracting her with a convincing decoy.

The final move had gone by so fast that Hifumi had to take a few seconds to rewind what had happened in her head. With her eyes still wide with disbelief, she bowed her head and conceded the match. To think that a win could be decided just like that, without so much as a flourish.

And yet, Hifumi wanted more.

The battles around her came to an end as echoes of “Checkmate!” rang in the air and the parents were allowed to reunite with their charges. Cheerful celebrations and soothing consolations filled up the room. She lingered by herself awhile longer, committing the placement of the pieces on the board to her mind before standing up and running over to where her mother was waiting.

The first thing she said was: “I want to play even more.”

The only reason Hifumi could remember how her first competitive match had unfolded was because of her mother’s recording. She had recorded it for the benefit of her father, who'd been away having on his own tussles with the shogi elite. But her rite of passage grew into a tradition, and her family made it a point to watch the CD of her very first match every year, on her birthday. Hifumi enjoyed it for the first couple of years, still too young to really know what insecurity felt like. She liked to point out how she would’ve played differently, relishing the ability to comment on her old gameplay.

“You’ve improved a lot, my dear,” her mother said on her tenth birthday, after they had finished the annual re-watch. “To think that in only two years, you’d become the best player at the community centre. It must be your father’s blood in you.”

“Nonsense. Hifumi’s talent is all on her,” her father laughed. “If only my matches were half as interesting and intense as hers.”

“They are to me,” Hifumi said, placing a hand on her father’s arm to get his attention. “I want to be as good as you one day, Father.” She loved her father’s playing now that she had gotten a chance to see it firsthand. He moved without hesitation, commanding his troops to victory like a king.

“When do you think I’ll be able to become a professional shogi player like you?” Hifumi asked.

Her father did not answer straightaway. Instead, he sat back and let the question hang in the air, indicating to her that this was not a simple matter.

“After you experience even more losses,” he answered at last. “Treasure every loss that shows that you can still improve.” Then, he broke the tension with a reassuring grin, reaching forward to help himself to the birthday cake on the coffee table in front of the TV. “Shogi should be played for the joy and the challenge it brings you. As long as you don’t lose sight of that, you’ll become a professional in no time.”

He sliced a bite-sized cube of cake and offered it to her. As Hifumi chewed, he continued, “When that happens, I’ll be there to tell everyone how proud I am of you.”

“And I’ll interview you and your father on TV, to let everyone know about your win!” her mother said, beaming with joy. “Hifumi, if you really keep this up, you might become the first professional female shogi player!”

“Do you really think I can do it?” Hifumi turned to her mother and asked. She didn’t know how tough it was going to be, but it didn’t seem easy, especially after her father’s adivce.

“You won’t have to do it alone. Your father and I will be there to support you.”

“Really?” Hifumi jumped off the floor cushion and spun around to face both her parents. She was serious about this, and she wanted to know that they were too.

Her mother pulled her into her arms, her bright red lipstick tracing the curve of her lips. When her hand opened up to cup Hifumi’s cheek, it was warm with love and hope and belief.

“Yes, we always will.”

 ★

The summer holidays were already half over, and yet Hifumi hadn’t felt like she had been on break the last few weeks. If anything, her days had gotten busier ever since summer started. Her mother had taken the opportunity to line up even more matches, interviews and photoshoots for her over the summer. If she wasn’t at the church, she would be at the Shogi Association competing with seniors who didn’t seem to like her much, or else talking to strangers from the media who seemed more interested in her personal life than shogi.

It always seemed to disappoint them that shogi _was_ her personal life too. It always had been since before she entered middle school. Hifumi paused, wondering if that would always be the case. If her mother’s plans went smoothly, in a few months, she would be spending more time playing idol instead. She had grown used to the routine, as much as it made her feel uncomfortable.

When her mother got overzealous and explained to her the big, foolproof master plan she’d strategised to help her become famous, Hifumi didn’t have the heart to interject. Not when her mother was working two part-time jobs and a night shift at a club to pay for her father’s medical bills. She couldn’t disappoint her parents, not now, not when they’d supported her in shogi for so long.

But what could she do to snap herself out of this depressing lull? It would consume her before long if she let these doubts fester in her heart. She would have to break the usual pattern. Such a common tactic was used in matches to throw opponents off guard. She would do the same with her life, somehow.

 _‘I’ll go to Book Town today, instead of the church,’_ she told herself. It was start.

When she arrived in Jimbocho and wandered the streets, she was already intent on surprising herself with a good find, like a handbook by one of her favorite shogi masters going on discount. That would be enough to break her out of her funk.

Instead, the first thing she saw was Akira Kurusu—with a female companion. Hifumi immediately retreated into herself, ducking her shoulders as she walked past them.

But Akira, oddly perceptive as ever, locked glances with her, and she knew it would be rude not to at least mutter a greeting.

“Um, hello.”

Her eyes darted to the person standing next to Akira. Hifumi didn’t recognise her, but she could feel a powerful aura emanating off her. The girl carried herself with a measured confidence. Against the scent of old books, Hifumi caught the sweet, distinct smell of plums.

Then, she felt something unpleasant stir in her chest—was it jealousy? Hifumi tore her gaze away from the pair and stared hard at her shoes, berating herself for holding such reprehensible feelings for Akira. She barely knew him for two months and yet he had become a fixture in her life. The doubts she’d been trying to exorcise seemed to crawl back, slipping through her ribcage to tighten her heart. The force felt colder and stronger this time.

What was Akira to her? A tenacious shoji student? A fellow warrior? Someone she could confide her troubles in if he just so happened to drop by the church?

No, she’d gotten ahead of herself.

“Um… goodbye,” she managed to mutter out, preparing to march off with this embarrassing weight lodged in her chest. She knew that some battles, the most important ones, she’d have to face alone.

“Excuse me, please wait! Was there something you wanted to say to him?”

Hifumi broke out of her brooding reverie. Akira’s friend called out to her, leading her back to them through the sheer pull of her words. Hifumi realised, slowly, that the power she felt from the girl didn’t come from her self-assuredness. It had been an immense kindness, the sort that came natural to someone who looked out for others. Who was this girl? She had asked such an odd question. It betrayed how observant she was, and that frightened Hifumi yet made her even more curious.

But before she knew it, she was sharing her latest strategies with Akira’s friend in the middle of Book Town. The strange girl listened intently, nodding as Hifumi shared her brief thoughts on her beloved shogi. It was invigorating, talking about shogi for once after so many draining interviews. She had almost forgotten how freeing it was to dish out tactics to a like-minded person. It reminded her of the long chats she used to have with her father.

It seemed inevitable that she wound up exchanging numbers with Makoto Niijima.

★

“So, what does the queen of the eternal troops have for me today?”

Her father sat up in his hospital bed, a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“It’s infernal troops, Father. My subjects have been resurrected as immortal warriors whose red hot flames will never be quenched by the cold blue lightning of the dark dragon,” Hifumi informed him a-matter-of-factly as she set up the shogi board on the side table.

“Ah, must’ve missed the memo,” her father chuckled.

Hifumi sat at the foot of the bed and wheeled the shogi board between them. “It’s okay,” she said, “I know it’s confusing. … The people at the community centre find it weird too.”

Though she had tried her best to even out the crack in her voice, her father was quiet for just a moment. Then, he heaved a tired sigh. It showed his age, but also his wisdom.

“You know what I mentioned before about what it takes to be a good ruler, Hifumi?”

She nodded. How could she forget? Part of the reason why she loved shogi was because it trained her mental faculties, yet at the same time allowed her to answer the call of her heart.

“I forgot to add one last thing.” He raised his index finger and paused for effect. “One must also have an iron will. A ruler who gives up easily, whether despite of or even because of her smarts or her heart, won’t be able to claim victory.”

Hifumi straightened her posture and brushed back the hair that had fallen over her eyes. Her father had grown so used to telling her elaborate stories and ancient proverbs, that he had forgotten how to speak to her directly.

Still, she summoned up a smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Father.”

Hifumi began to arrange the shogi pieces on the board to show that she wanted to move on and begin the game. “In any case, Mother told me not to listen to what others say. What matters is that I continue to win and make my way into the professional leagues.”

“You’re only twelve-years old, Hifumi. What matters is that you love shogi,” her father said, stifling a cough.

“I do.” It was more a promise than anything else.

She looked hard at the pieces laid out before her, visualising each and every one as a unique troop on the battlefield. She could easily map out their movements and the strategies at her disposal. As their queen, she would make sure to rule with no hesitation.

“I have five different moves I want to try today!” she announced. Her father's illness meant that it had become easy for him to overexert himself, even when playing shogi. Hifumi had to make up the energy for the both of them.

Her father reached a hand out from under the covers to pat her gently on the head. Hifumi leaned into his touch, trying her best to ignore the IV drip that wormed out of the back of his hand.

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be our champion. Don’t ever think otherwise, my dear daughter.”

★

The sound of the hairdryer whirring to life jerked Hifumi awake. She blinked, peeling herself off the wall and reminding herself that she was supposed to be getting ready for another photoshoot now. These last few nights staying up late studying for exams and working on new finisher moves had left her with less energy reserves than usual. The make-up artist had done his part and left her alone for a little too long. Now, the hair stylist had come over to her seat and was just getting started.

“Togo-chan, lemme just take this off alright? It clashes with the outfit they’ve chosen for you today.”

She pursed her lips and gave a small nod as the stylist removed the omamori knot from her hair and laid it down. The thick red string stood out against the plain tatami flooring. Hifumi's eyes lingered on it, registering its presence for the first time in a long while. It had become such a habit for her to thread it into her hair each day before setting off, she’d forgotten how bright and elegant it looked. Did it really suit her?

She remembered being fourteen and visiting the neighbourhood shrine with her parents. It was around the time she had gotten recognised for her talent in shogi and was being considered for a JSA kenshūkai—a shogi training group for amateurs who had potential to make it to the professional level through the Japan Shogi Association. The whole family had been ecstatic. It was a long-awaited reward, for her mother having given up her job at the broadcasting company last year, for the painful treatments her father had been undergoing.

Her mother had spotted the omamori hair ornaments dangling in the spring breeze. The shrine workers were selling them, and she had asked Hifumi which one she wanted. Hifumi picked the red-coloured one without hesitation, its deep hue reminding her of the undying embers of a dragon’s almighty rage.

Later on, her mother told her that the omamori carried with it good luck and protection. “You look beautiful, Hifumi. Be sure to wear this whenever you’re playing a match, okay?” her mother had said, pulling her close to her side as they waited for their turn to pay their respects.

Hifumi revelled in the warmth she felt standing beside her mother, who was smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks. She was radiant, even the dark shadows which had been growing under her eyes seemed lighter now. Her father was standing next to her mother, well enough to walk around now after recuperating at home for two weeks. He was grinning wordlessly, cherishing the moments he had outdoors.

She loved her parent’s smiles more than anything else in the world, especially because they came out of difficult trials. She wanted these pockets of time together to last, for their happiness to never fall away. And so, she had vowed to wear the omamori knot everyday if it meant that it would bring luck and protection to her family.

As Hifumi tossed a coin into the offering box, clapped her hands and bowed, she asked for the omamori to be given the power to bring her family happiness as well.

Had she been too greedy back then? This thought came to her only now, three years later.

“Done and done!” the hair stylist chimed, pleased with her work. “I’ve gotta say, this is one of the weirdest places I’ve had to do hair.”

Hifumi straightened her posture and bowed curtly to show her thanks. She felt her hair, now twisted into a neat bun, bob with the motion of her shoulders. It was indeed an odd place for her to be preparing for a photoshoot—they were in one of the training rooms in the JSA, usually set aside for official matches among the members. Today, her mother had arranged for a magazine to feature upcoming rising competitors in the Ladies Professional Shogi Players Association, which was a subset of the JSA. She was one of them.

“We’ve had a lot of visitors from the media sector lately, huh?” a female senior quipped to another who was getting her face powdered.

“Yeah. Togo-san’s going all out to promote Hifumi-chan,” her friend answered, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Hifumi.

“Well, it’s not a total pain for once. We get a chance in the limelight too!” the senior laughed.

“Yeah, well, some of us deserve it more than others.”

Hifumi tugged self-consciously on the sleeve of the tight kimono she had been made to wear and lowered her gaze. Things had gotten so awkward between her and the rest because of all the focus the media was placing on her. She knew better than to stand up and try to correct the rumours that had been spreading. But because of this, Hifumi was increasingly growing uncomfortable with the JSA.

As much as she had spent the last few years here honing her skills, in recent memory, all her trips here had been for publicity’s sake and for interviews arranged by her mother. With her father’s previous standing in the association, it had been easy for her mother to pull some strings to get the JSA to be open to the idea of marketing Hifumi as an image girl for shogi.

But it no longer seemed like a shogi association. It was more like a talent agency, and she was the only idol her mother was set on promoting. Idols were usually surrounded by glitter and lights, weren’t they? Why then, did Hifumi feel like she was being swallowed whole by something sinister and dark?

The unease stayed with her as she posed awkwardly for shots with a shogi board the producer had asked for last minute, as she took robotic cues from the photographer, as she shed the layers of kimono and make-up, as she bade a one-sided farewell to the seniors.

The heavy sensation only left her gut when she stepped out of the building, her omamori knotted securely back in place. 

★

“Did I make a wrong move, Togo-san?”

Hifumi snapped out of the daze she’d fallen into. She had been thinking about how she was going to hand in her assignments for school on time, what with all that was going on. She felt more like a part-time student these days, but that didn’t worry her as much as her increasing lack of focus during training.

“My apologies, Niijima-san. I should show more respect than this.” She dipped her head and maintained the angle of her chin for a few seconds before righting herself. “Rest assured, it’s not because of your choices. You’re doing great. In fact, I find your playing style rather… intriguing.”

By playing style, Hifumi referred to not only the way Niijima directed her pieces. Her father had taught her to read her opponents from the way they sat, to the way they shouted ‘check!’. 

It was interesting how Nijiima, a fresh novice, was able to play shogi with a completely straight face. Hifumi’s ultimate attacks, which involved summoning colossal weapons or beings of pure light, didn’t seem to phase her.

Even Akira, her usual shogi partner these days, didn’t seem entirely immune to her image-training. He’d sometimes try to hide a bemused snigger by rubbing his nose or pushing up his glasses. Hifumi appreciated this, but also noted these as signs that he was not taking her seriously.

Niijima, on the other hand, never so much as blinked. There was finality to her every move which Hifumi couldn’t help but find compelling. It was as if Nijima was determined to place all stakes on every decision she made, prepared to claim victory, and to also bear the consequences if she failed. She claimed to be invested in mere strategy, and that was how she had approached Hifumi—as a stand-in for Akira on the nights he wasn’t around so that she could pick up and dissect different formations orchestrated by Hifumi. But where Akira was a like a sponge, adept at absorbing and retaining knowledge, Niijiima was something else entirely. Hifumi could sense the potential of a queen in her.

A part of her was relieved that Niijima was only pursuing shogi as a pastime. If she were to take it seriously, Hifumi would have one more rival to keep tabs on. And though that didn’t sound that bad at all, it reminded Hifumi how far behind she had fallen. If a newbie like Niijima could demonstrate more focus during the game than she, a veteran, how could she justify being called something as grand as ‘The Venus of Shogi’?

Even now, she still didn’t quite understand why Niijima and Akira were both keen on playing shogi with her. They didn’t seem interested in such labels. As much as Akira had said he wished to learn how to play shogi like her, Hifumi could sense that there was something else afoot.

“By intriguing, I hope you mean in a good way,” Niijima said with the hint of a smirk. Ah, so she had a sense of humour somewhere underneath all that concentration.

“Of course.”

“But since you’ve talked about my style, I’d like to ask you about yours. Could you tell me more about this almighty dragon you refer to and the Ultimate Excalibur Blade?” Niijima posed this question as if she was asking about the weather.

Hifumi balled her hands on her lap. She never had a pleasant time talking about her playing habits. Lately, they had begun to feel more like crutches.

“Well, there’s nothing much more I can say about them,” she began, before steeling herself and pressing onwards. “... I just made them up.”

“Ah, so that’s it.” Niijima nodded. “My apologies if I asked an intrusive question. I just wondered if they had come from a book of some sort. I would’ve liked to read it. But if that’s all there is, then that’s that.”

Niijima didn’t seem satisfied with the answer Hifumi had given, but she was holding herself back to be polite. That only made Hifumi more curious.

“Why do you ask?”

It was Hifumi’s turn to see Niijima’s face flush a softer shade of red.

“I don’t know how to put this in a less embarrassing way, but I just wanted to understand you a bit more, Togo-san. I mean…” Niijima stopped, as if considering whether she wanted to share her secret. “I’ve just been trying to be more aware of the people around me. Before I met Akira-kun, I was in my own little bubble. I realised that I didn’t even bother to understand the people I was supposed to be looking out for. So I’m… I’m trying to be better at that now.”

Hifumi’s feet, which had been crossed at the ankles, relaxed.

Niijima continued, less self-consciously now, “You’re such a talented strategist. I thought that if I could understand you, I could become as mindful as you are at strategy.”

Hifumi was still in a state of surprise. No one tried to ‘understand’ what she did. She didn’t really understand herself all that much either. And yet here was Niijima, trying to find out what was underneath all her make-believe and play-pretend, assuming that whatever lay there had significance. 

“I see. Well, you can start by calling me Hifumi, then.”

Niijima raised her gaze off the shogi board. Her eyes seemed to carry an ocean of emotions that Hifumi could never hope to navigate. But then, there it was. That kindness. The sort that made you feel safe.

“Please, call me Makoto from now on too.”

★

Hifumi came out of her room one morning to find her mother awake, still in the strapless dress she wore at the nightclub. She was staying up to reply emails and prod at the ongoing negotiations she had with the JSA and fashion magazines. She'd been doing that almost every day now.

“Good morning, Mother,” she greeted before adding, “Have you been having enough rest?”

“I’ll take a rest once you’ve achieved your fame,” was all her mother said.

Hifumi hadn't expected to be dealt such a heavy reminder so early in the morning. Silently, she unzipped her school bag on the dining table, double checking for her homework, notebook and keys. The words between them had grown strained as of late. She didn’t know how she could become more popular and how much it truly mattered—only that she had to.

Her mother must have sensed her doubt, because she looked up from her laptop.

“We haven’t gone out together to eat for awhile. Let’s do that before we visit your father this weekend, alright? I’ll try to apply for time-off from the department store.“

“We could eat out more often if…” she wanted to say, ‘if I took on a part time job too’, but Hifumi knew she had never seriously considered that before. For her, shogi training had always come first. Whatever money they made from photoshoots and interviews, they used to scrape by. That was partly why Hifumi had agreed to go along with her mother’s idea in the beginning.

Her father’s condition had stabilised, but she wondered how much longer she would need before she would get recognised to qualify for a professional title. And yet, with every visit to the hospital, her father never asked about her ranking. Instead, he'd say, “Are you still playing shogi? Come, tell me about a match.” And then he'd sink back into the pillow and close his eyes, his hand covering Hifumi’s.

It was silly of him to ask, as if he was giving her the chance to step back from shogi. But Hifumi couldn’t even think of it, not now when she was so close, not after all that her parents had done for her.  

She was now the one who regaled exaggerated tales to her father, and he was the one who found hope in them. Hifumi always wished that this time, she’d be able to give him the story he was waiting for, for a play by play of a victorious match against a professional, that she had done it, that she had defeated all that stood in her way and had now joined him among the ranks of the professionals.

That day didn’t seem like it was coming soon enough. Hifumi wondered if she was doing something wrong and if there was a reason why she hadn't broken into the top ranks of the female players yet. She had been on an unbreakable winning streak ever since a few months ago. There was the nagging thought that it was all just because she had not yet played against a professional male player.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she did need to make a name for herself before she could even think about testing her skills with the upper echelons. For all her mother had boxed her into, Hifumi knew that she was working tirelessly. Still, she wondered if they were even chasing the same dream now.

“What’s the matter, Hifumi?” her mother asked. There was a touch of worry in her voice. It was almost as if she had returned back into her old self. “... Is it the rumours? How many times have I told you not to listen to the rumours?”

And just like that, she was gone again.

“In show business, you don’t have time to get depressed by what others say. You need to ignore them all if it means you want to emerge at the top.” This was a lecture that had been given time and time again. Hifumi could never bring herself to tell her mother that shogi was not show business.

At least, that was what she’d thought a year ago. Hifumi wasn’t so sure now.

When she did not give a reply, her mother shook her head. Her hair was greying at the roots, and hung limp over bony shoulders.

“An iron will. Your father used to say such silly things to get you going, but we can agree on that at least. Promise me you’ll continue to work hard, okay, Hifumi? If not for me, then for your father and for yourself. You deserve this.”

At seventeen, Hifumi realised she could never disappoint her mother either.

★

“Taste my justice!”

Makoto slammed the shogi piece onto the board in one sharp motion, offing two of Hifumi’s pawns and her king. It was a checkmate.

Had she made the formation too easy to shatter, or had Makoto managed to outsmart her? Makoto’s moves were certainly unpredictable in comparison to the opponents she’d been facing at the JSA. They were easy to read, unlike Makoto, who had fashioned her relative inexperience into a weapon. Hifumi had just gone easy on her without knowing. That was it, wasn’t it?

As much as it filled her with pride to see Makoto excelling at a breakneck pace under her tutelage, Hifumi couldn’t shake off the uncertainties gnawing at her.

“Wow, I really got into it at that last part,” Makoto said as she took a sip of tea. Her throat was probably dry from the match that took place the past half hour. It always amazed Hifumi that Makoto was able to switch between her calm composure and a fierce, unforgiving force. It was almost as if she was speaking to two different people at times.

But, when she looked again, harder and closer at Makoto, at the subtle clench of her jaw and the way she curled her fingers, Hifumi could tell that she was always a bit of both. It was enchanting.

Hifumi was just glad that the church had a private event tonight and that they had relocated their weekly session to her house. One girl casting incantations and declaring finisher moves had already made some people talk unkindly about the church. If two of them went at it no holds barred in the pews, she wouldn’t know what to tell the priest. Even if he was her father’s good friend, she knew that he was already going out of his way to offer her an alternative place to practice shogi.

“Well, you’ve been doing an excellent job.”

“It’s only because you’re always putting up with my questions,” Makoto said sheepishly. “I’ve been told I’m a bit of a perfectionist. With studies, I can find the answers myself. But with shogi, I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on you.”

Hifumi berated herself for feeling a swell of joy.

“Please, don’t make such a big deal out of this. I’m... ” she drifted off. She didn't know how to bottle all her uncertainties into words, nor did she want to.

“You’re one of the most popular female shogi players right now, aren't you? I’ve read the magazine interviews,” Makoto said.

Hifumi cocked her head. “How did you come across the articles? I hadn’t imagined you to be the type who indulged in weeklys.”

Makoto stiffened at the question. “I-I just happened to see it on the newsstands. Of course, I bought it when I found out it had an article about you,” she explained, sounding rather flustered. Hifumi didn’t want to press further since it seemed to be a touchy subject. But why would Makoto get so defensive about reading the interview? Hifumi certainly didn’t mind, though she did find that the articles played up her looks over everything else. She hoped Makoto hadn’t felt like she’d wasted money on the magazines.

Regrouping herself, Makoto cleared her throat and said, “Anyway, it was interesting to see that. You on the cover, I mean. Popularity isn’t necessarily a bad thing and yet…” She chewed her lip before continuing, “I can’t help but feel like something’s not right.”

Hifumi didn’t know what to say in reply right away. It would have been easy to confess that she was miserable, that she wondered if all her shogi training amounted to anything if she would never be given the chance to prove herself. But this was Makoto, and she would be willing to do anything if it meant helping someone in need. And if she'd read the magazines, she would've learned of the rumours too. Some people in the JSA had twisted the words in the articles, and had taken to calling her a ‘fake queen’.

Makoto had probably intended to offer her help from the moment she'd asked to meet up for an impromptu training session today.

Hifumi couldn't take advantage of that.

As much as she wanted to ask Makoto, “Do you think I'm doing the right thing?”, instead, she asked, “Have you heard of the Phantom Thieves?”

“W-why of course I have! They’re everywhere now!” Makoto answered with a funny crack in her voice.

She was behaving so out of sorts today. Hifumi wanted to check if she was possibly running a fever. Before she could bridge the distance between them, Makoto coughed out a laugh and swept a lock of hair behind her ear.

“... What do you think of them?”

“Well, whenever the rumours begin to get to me, I just remind myself that the Phantom Thieves exist. They continue doing what’s right even though they have to deal with even more bad press than I do. I want to be more like them. I have to be more like them.” To her, they were the embodiment of iron will in the face of adversity.

Makoto did not say anything at first. This was peculiar, because she always had an opinion. Instead, she stared blankly at Hifumi, nodding her head in silent but obliging agreement.

“What do you think, Makoto-san? Wouldn’t you want to be like them too?”

Makoto had started looking around the living room. What exactly was she searching for?

“Are you hungry? Do you need more water?”

“No, no. I was... I was just looking at this! What is this?” Makoto scrambled onto her knees and reached over to the pile of books next to the TV. She lifted a few titles off the stack and pulled out a CD case that had been wedged underneath.

It was the recording of her first match.

Makoto turned the CD around in her hands, perking as she saw the words scrawled on it.

“Would you mind if we watched this?”

★

The last time Hifumi had watched this CD, her mother was still appearing on TV and her father could still play shogi competitively. It had been awhile. The details of what had transpired that fateful day had grown fuzzy with time—like the fact that she had been wearing her favourite white shirt which had a pink cartoon dragoon printed on it, or the fact that the boy she was playing against wasn’t as big as she remembered him being.  

“You look so happy, Hifumi-chan.”

On the screen, her younger self was staring intently at the board. She could see her lips moving. She was muttering to herself. There was no obvious smile on her chubby face, yet Makoto could see that she was deeply engrossed by the game. Yes, Hifumi remembered how she had been affected by a strong sensation as she played—that she had found something she could pour her soul into.

Did she still feel that way when she played shogi today?

“... Yes, I suppose so.”

“I've always admired that about you. I've been so obsessed with school and being a worthy student council president, I never gave myself a chance to invest in anything else. I sometimes wonder if I could love something as much as you love shogi. But being with you and watching you play, it's more than enough for me right now,” Makoto said without a hint of pretense in her voice.

Hifumi could feel her heart flutter at this absolute honesty, though she didn't know what was an appropriate thing to say in reply.

The two of them had shifted from sitting across each other at the coffee table, to sitting beside each other in front of the TV. Their shoulders were touching. Makoto wasn’t leaning away, so neither did Hifumi. She slowed her breaths and tried to settle down. In their shared silence, she was acutely aware of all the stress wound up around her body. Yet, she also felt at peace for the first time in a long while. The shogi board had been stowed away. It was just her, and this girl who smelled like sweet plums every once in awhile.

“Why do you smell like plums?” she asked in a whisper, even though it was just the two of them.

Makoto jumped at the question. She had been absorbed in Hifumi’s game on the TV.

“I like eating dried plums when I’m feeling tired from school and… work. Sometimes, I drink plum soda too. Do you smell it? Did it get in my breath?” A hushed, frantic realisation spread through her voice.

Hifumi smiled and said, “I don’t mind.” She leaned in closer to demonstrate.

“Mm.” Makoto tucked her chin and said nothing. They’d turned off the lights in the room, so it was hard to read her expression. Hifumi turned her attention back to the TV, realising that it must’ve been rude of her to distract Makoto from the video.

The deciding move had just been made by the boy. Hifumi watched as her younger self’s expression changed from one of intense determination to one of pure shock. It was her first match, after all. She probably hadn’t expected to be beaten so unceremoniously.

When was the last time she had lost an official match? It seemed so long ago, perhaps half a year ago, before she started her winning streak and climbing up the ranks in the Ladies Professional Shogi Players Association. Had she grown stronger since then?

“It’s alright, Hifumi. Be strong. You did well.”

It was her mother’s voice, coming from the video.

“Ah.”

Makoto was reacting to the image of her crying as she stumbled back up to her mother. The video had gone shaky from her mother lowering the camera. All that they could see now were the socks on Hifumi’s feet and her mother’s black stockings. 

“I’m sorry, Mother.” She was sobbing.

Hifumi had forgotten about this part.

“It’s okay, Hifumi. What matters is that you tried something new, isn’t it? You don’t need to play shogi again if you don’t like it.” Her mother said from behind the camera.

“I like it. Even though I’m bad at it. I want to play even more!”

As the video ran on and she heard her tearful sniffing and the gentle hum of her mother’s voice, Hifumi felt the memories stir in her head. That match had meant a lot to her when she was seven. She had fallen for shogi in the course of twenty minutes, and she had gotten her heart broken by it in the very same span of time. But she had insisted on continuing on, no matter what. And her parents had let her, supporting her all the way.

That was why she was where she was today, wasn’t it?

 “... Hifumi-chan, you must love shogi a lot.”

Her lip quivered. She couldn’t find the words. Not yet.

★

It was a week later, and Hifumi still couldn’t shake the shadow of guilt that had haunted her ever since she rewatched the CD. She had taken it out of their old DVD player and kept it in her room, perched on her study desk. It served as a reminder now.

“Hifumi, are you listening?” Her mother waved her chopsticks at her.

She looked up from her bowl of rice. She had barely eaten any dinner, but couldn’t find the appetite to add more to her plate.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

“I was saying that I’ve arranged for you to have a match against a professional shogi player,” her mother drawled out, speaking slower this time round. “Aren’t you happy?”

The rice bowl nearly slipped out of Hifumi’s hand.

“What?” she stuttered. Happy was not quite the right word to describe the surge of emotions rattling in her chest. “-I mean, thank you, Mother. How did you manage that?”

“It was a client from my club. I found out he had connections to the higher ups at the JSA. He was able to pull a few strings and agreed to set up a match between you and one of the players he’s managing. We’ll say it’s for exposure and good fun, testing the ‘Venus of Shogi’ with a male professional.”

This news had been sprung on her, but Hifumi would make the best out of it. She had to. She clenched her hand, feeling nails dig into flesh.

“I’ll do my best, then. I’ll be sure not to let you or Father down.”

Her mother considered her words before bursting into a bout of condescending chuckles.

“You’re thinking too small, Hifumi. No one will care if you win against him. It’s not an official match. No, I’m thinking much bigger.”

Her mother sounded so sure. It made Hifumi feel uneasy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you should throw this match. Get knocked down, and then come back and win it all. We can even toss in a couple of lines about how sexist and male-dominated shogi is!”

Hifumi’s fist was shaking. This wasn’t what she wanted.

“I… I know where you’re coming from, Mother. I don’t disagree that it’s not an equal playing field, but I should win the match if I deserve to win, and lose if I don’t. This is a chance to prove my skill, to let everyone know that I’m my father’s daughter. Didn’t you want that too?”

Her mother hadn’t expected her opposition. That was clear by the way a frown darkened her face. She brought her chopsticks down to the table with one loud snap. 

“Silly girl, no one cares about skill. They only care about a good story and a pretty face. Why do you think you’ve been winning all these matches? It’s because I fixed them. If not, I wouldn’t have been able to get you to where you are now.”

The sharp pain Hifumi felt from clenching her hand too hard couldn’t compare to the sickening feeling that had punctured her gut. She could no longer look her mother in the eyes.

Was this was why her opponents, especially the males, made ridiculously careless moves? Why hadn't she seen through it earlier?

Or maybe she had all along, but chose not to admit it to herself.

Maybe all she really was, was a fake queen who'd wanted to succeed no matter what.

Hifumi stared, unblinking, at the angry, crescent markings on her open palm. Her voice came out in fragments.

“H-How… How could you?”

“How could I? How could I not? If we really had to rely on just your ‘skills’ alone, we wouldn’t have made it up here so fast. Don’t you see, Hifumi? You’re so close to your goal—our goal. Together, we’ll prove to everyone else how wrong they’ve been about you, about me, about your father.”

She was speechless as her mother reached over to hold her hand. She was cold to the touch, but her grip was the same one that had held Hifumi all these years. Through the tears, through the tantrums, through the pain.

“Listen, Hifumi. If you want to be the queen of shogi, if you want don’t want all your effort to go to waste, then you need to do this. Trust me. All I’ve done, I’ve done for you.” 

Her mother’s voice had shifted, and in it, Hifumi could hear all the frustration and the exhaustion she’d stowed away.

And then, an unmistakable waver of longing for all the things that they had lost.

“Please, Hifumi.”  

She conceded defeat. 

★

Just past the school gate, Hifumi saw a familiar face hidden partially behind a magazine about motorbikes. She immediately dropped her gaze to the walkway and hoped that she wouldn’t get noticed. Kosei students were dismissed at different times throughout the afternoon depending on their timetables. Had Makoto been waiting for her here since noon? She felt a squeeze in her chest. 

“Hifumi-chan, wait!”

It had been worth a try. She could not bear to ignore Makoto's call, so she slowed her footsteps to let her catch up. The students around them were already buzzing in whispers, constructing their theories on why she was speaking to a student from the infamous Shujin Academy.  

“Makoto-san. Fancy seeing you here.” She forced out her most pleasant smile.

The older girl was taken aback by her greeting. She quickly recovered, enough to grab onto the sleeve of Hifumi’s blazer, as if she knew that Hifumi would try to escape the moment she got the chance.

“What happened? You called off our sessions so suddenly—is something wrong?”

If only Hifumi could translate all that had happened into mere sentences. It seemed impossible. Perhaps something like, “I’m not the shogi master you thought I was” would do, but her pride would not allow her to say it. She still had that, bruised and battered as it was.

“It’s just that my mother has a lot of plans arranged for me. I won’t be able to focus on so many things at the moment. I’m sorry that we had to end it so abruptly.”

She meant it, too.

“We don’t.” Makoto’s eyes flickered. There they were. Her profound calmness and her deep anger, coalescing into each other. Hifumi realised, belatedly, that she had never gotten round to telling Makoto how beautiful she was.

There would be no need now since she wasn’t intending to see her again. Makoto reminded her too much of what she thought she had been.

“Tell me, Hifumi-chan. I can help. Is it your mother? The idol-business? Akira-kun’s told me about it too. If this is about expectations, I know what it’s like. I have an older sister and-”

“Makoto-san.” She felt terrible interrupting.

Makoto yielded, but the flash of hurt in her eyes did not escape Hifumi’s notice.

“... Let’s not talk about this. It’s fine. Really.”

Gently, she cupped her hand over Makoto’s and tugged. But Makoto’s would not let go. The students around them had finally petered out, but Hifumi still felt exposed, standing just outside school like this.

“Tell me what’s the matter, Hifumi.”

She was being serious. But, so was Hifumi.

“I can’t, Makoto.”

“I know what it’s like. I’ve lived off my sister ever since my father left us. I felt a lot of pressure to be what she wanted me to be, but because of my friends, I learned that that didn’t have to be the case.” Makoto didn’t seem to have a problem sharing this, but it only made Hifumi more uncomfortable. This was exactly what she knew would happen if Makoto ever found out. What pained her most was that she couldn’t express how grateful she was. 

“You may be able to disobey your sister, but I can’t do that to my mother or my father,” Hifumi said stiffly. She flicked her wrist, and Makoto retracted her hand.

“I’m no longer the shogi player you and Akira-kun thought I was. It’s as simple as that.”

But Makoto still wasn’t satisfied.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Hifumi. It’ll eat you up, and then there’ll be no way out.” Makoto was now grabbing onto her elbow. Why was she so desperate? There was nothing she could do about this.

If Hifumi was to be swallowed up by this, then so be it. She would take it. It was her punishment. She would not forget what her father had taught her: a sharp mind, a dragon’s heart, and an iron will. She had to preserve at least that, even if she had lost everything else in her misguided attempts to be someone who would live up to her parent’s, no—her own dreams.

Makoto seemed to finally understand that she wasn’t going to change Hifumi’s mind, because her next question went completely off tangent.

“...What is your mother to you now?”

“Huh?”

“I just… want to understand your situation a bit more. If you no longer see yourself as a shogi player, then what about your mother? Makoto asked, a tinge of urgency in her voice. “Please, just this last question and I promise I’ll stop pestering you. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” 

That last offer had stung, and Makoto had asked such an unrelated question. But if this really was the final thing she wanted to know…

Since when had Hifumi grown unable to refuse Makoto?

Ah, perhaps, it had been from the very start.

“It pains me to say this, but my mother… she’s behaving more like my talent manager now.” The answer had come so easily to Hifumi. It was as if Makoto had known the right question to ask all along.

Makoto kept her end of the deal. She eased back, released Hifumi’s elbow, and contemplated her answer for a moment before speaking.

“Just trust me. Things will get better.” Makoto reached out to hold her hand now. It was a reassuring gesture.

Hifumi wished she deserved to be saved by such warm, kind hands.

★

School had let out for the day and Hifumi couldn’t shake the suspicion that Makoto was up to something. She had left immediately after Hifumi answered her question yesterday, and had not spoken to her since.

As she was lost in her thoughts, someone brushed past her, walking at a steady but brisk pace. It took only a quick glance at his stature and hair for Hifumi to recognise that it was Kitagawa, the resident starving artist of Kosei High. Odd. She usually saw him taking much a more measured and precise gait around the hallways. Why was he in such a rush today?

No matter. She had places to be herself. Ignoring a text message from her mother, Hifumi quickened her footsteps and decided to keep up with Kitagawa. He seemed to be headed to the train station too. His pace provided a good challenge for her. She would reach her destination in no time if she followed Kitagawa’s example.

Strange. He was waiting for the same train as her. Shibuya-bound.

Oh, he was getting off at Shibuya too? Well, that wasn’t odd. A lot of students hung out at Shibuya after school.

… Why was he walking in the direction of the JSA too? Was there a private art gallery nearby? Or perhaps he had a part-time job somewhere in the area? As they passed by a few more turns and bends, it became no mistake: he was clearly headed for the JSA.

Hifumi hadn’t been noticed yet, trailing behind a fair distance from Kitagawa. Her original plan had been usurped by this new decision to find out where, or rather, why Kitagawa was going where he was.

She shrank back behind a pillar on the exterior of the building as she saw Kitagawa join up with a sizable group gathered near the entrance of the JSA. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Akira’s unkempt hair and Makoto’s back. So, Hifumi had been right about Makoto being up to something. But why had she dragged Akira and the rest of these strangers along with her?

Hifumi could make out a few others in the group. The boy with dyed hair, that was… Sakamoto, wasn’t it? Akira had mentioned him a few times to her before. They seemed to be incredibly close friends. The other person she could place a name to was Takamaki. Akira had asked her if she knew Takamaki from her photoshoots, but they had never crossed paths. Looking at Takamaki’s down-to-earth beauty and casual demeanour, it wasn’t hard to guess why they had never appeared in the same spread—possibly even magazine—together.

Sakamoto held up his phone in one hand, his thumb tinkering with it for a few seconds. “Okay, the Nav’s open. So we’ve got Hifimu Togo-“

“It’s Mitsuyo Togo, dummy. Hifumi’s her daughter,” Takamaki corrected him sharply. Two beeps of confirmation came from the phone: _Candidates found._

“Hey, hey, chill. I still haven’t fully recovered from getting blasted out of space three days ago, so forgive me if I’m mixing up names of people I don’t know!” Sakamoto snapped.

Now, the cat in Akira’s bag yowled at him too. And Sakamoto was… yelling back?

“Ryuji, Morgana, focus,” Makoto cut between the cat and the boy, her mouth settling into a firm line. “We’re all tired, but we don’t have much time to lose. We don’t know how long it’ll be before Haru’s father recovers. We need to change Togo-san’s heart so that we can get back to preparing for what’ll happen then.”

 _Change her heart?_ Hifumi clutched onto the pillar, her fingernails scratching against brick.

Sakamoto lowered his chin only slightly, but that was enough to indicate that he’d been cowed. “Alright, alright. So we’ve got the name down. Next is the location…”

“We’re at the headquarters of the Japanese Shogi Association,” the bespectacled young girl chimed in. “They have other main offices around Japan, but Togo-san’s records are here. I checked.”

“By checked, do you mean hacked?” Kitagawa asked.

“Yep!” the bespectacled girl laughed gleefully. Kitagawa shook his head in resigned dismay. Next to him was another young woman with short, fluffy hair that Hifumi didn’t recognise, who was now clapping appreciatively at the hacking that had taken place.

Their gang was appearing odder and odder. Hifumi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, an uncontrollable confusion rising in her like a tide. She had had creeping suspicions since yesterday night about Makoto and Akira, but were her suspicions off?

“Right,” Makoto coughed. It seemed that she was familiar with dealing with the eccentricities of her friends. “We know Hifumi feels she’s being treated like an idol-”

The phone beeped as Makoto continued, “-which would mean that her mother sees herself as…”

“A talent manager, right?” Takamaki concluded.

The app on Sakamoto’s phone sounded its approval.

“Great! All that’s left is figuring out what this place is to her.”

“If this is where Togo-san is getting shown off, wouldn’t it be like a performance stage, then?” Takamaki hazarded a guess.

The phone beeped: ‘ _No candidate found_.’

“Guess not,” Sakamoto shrugged. “Hey, what about one of those training schools for idols? They have those nowadays, right?”

The phone didn’t respond to that either.

Makoto cupped her chin with one hand and said, “I think Ryuji’s on to something.” She turned to Akira, who had been standing aside and observing the discussion thus far.

“What do you think? If her mother has been grooming her here for awhile now, even going so far as to arrange for interviews, photoshoots and matches here…”

Akira’s eyes were hidden behind the glint of his spectacles. Hifumi couldn’t tell what was on his mind, but it seemed like he was considering the information.

“What about a talent agency?”

The group seemed to react to some invisible force emanating from the phone. Hifumi barely heard the phrase: ‘ _Beginning navigation.’_

Did the Phantom Thieves have a phone possessed by a demonic overlord that helped them steal the hearts of others? Hifumi’s knees buckled at the thought—it was so cool yet so honestly terrifying at the same time. Before she could steady herself, she felt her stomach tighten as the world around her seemed to warp—were these the demon’s powers? She hadn’t readied herself for such a scenario. This wasn’t the shogi board.

Then again, this didn’t exactly feel like real life either.

Her head was spinning all of a sudden and she stumbled onto the ground, her hands bracing against the hard concrete, which was itself fading out of existence. A sharp pain shot across the back of her head. Hifumi knelt forward, forehead resting on one hand, unprepared for the sudden burst of pain. She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself with deep breaths, her lungs heaving and her gut clenching. It’s okay. _It’s okay_. She balled her hands into fists.

She needn’t be afraid, she’d done enough image-training up till now, she just had to unlock the power to fight back against this underhanded psychic attack.

“I won’t fall prey to you, demon lord!” she shouted.

“Hifumi?”

A voice. Makoto’s voice.

She looked up from the ground, wincing as she realised the pain in her head wasn’t going away, only softening to a constant prickle.

“Hifumi, why are you here?!”

The person who was kneeling down with her was dressed in total black and sported spikes on her shoulders. Hifumi gulped, not expecting the sudden proximity. Her heart was beating wildly—not out of fear, no.

She wondered if now was a good time to tell Makoto how stunning she was.

Instead, she sputtered, “Ma… Makoto, why are you dressed like that?”

Makoto was silent for a moment. She then heaved a sigh before standing up. Hifumi tried to gather her bearings as well. This proved quite an effort, as she found her legs restricted by something tight bound around them. Her vision was still spotty, but she could make out the hand that Makoto held out to her.

The metal of her knucklebusters felt cold to the touch against Hifumi’s naked hand, but Makoto didn’t let go. Hifumi couldn’t bring herself to release her hand either. Almost like an afterthought in the dull throb of her mind, she noted that Makoto had an iron grip. But even iron could tremble.

Hifumi squeezed her hand once, then twice in reassurance, just to be sure. Although everything around her was still hazy, she knew she had to do at least this.

Makoto eased her grip as she looked over her shoulder to Hifumi. Her gaze was heavy and apologetic, and Hifumi would do anything if it meant taking that burden away. She realised, almost wonderfully, that if this were a dream, she would take on the cursed demon lord with Makoto.

Despite her renewed vigour, her voice came out in a meek croak as her vision adjusted to the surroundings and everything cleared.

Behind Makoto stood a line of similarly clothed avengers of justice. The Phantom Thieves.

Before Hifumi could properly process what was happening, Makoto finally spoke: 

“I could ask you the same question.”

She stared down at herself.

When had her school uniform been replaced by a kimono?

★

The JSA had been transformed into a tall office building. Gone was the front sign bearing its name. Instead, there was now a big billboard plastered on the front, and the words were lit up in flashy colours.

Togo Talent Agency.

“You would think someone as obsessed with public image and marketing as Togo-san would have instead named it after herself or Hifumi-san,” Kitagawa commented, criticism laced artfully in his words.

“Oh yes, I see what you mean,” Okumura agreed.

Sakura seemed to be running a programme on the laptop in her hands. “I can’t get a clear reading about the interior of the Palace from out here. We’ll have to go inside.” 

Hifumi had been given a brief introduction to each of them, including the talking cat. She chose to see Morgana as Akira’s Familiar, it was the easiest way her aching head could contain all this new information about the Metaverse and Palaces and cognitive selves. It was almost unnerving, how these things were not too far off from what she’d come up with during image-training.

“Hold on a minute. We have to get Hifumi out first,” Makoto reminded them, her voice tense.

Hifumi opened her mouth to retort, but stopped short. She couldn’t brazenly declare that she wanted to stay here. Her worst nightmare had taken shape in the form of the large, oppressive building towering over them. She saw no hint of shogi anywhere apart from the words on her chest, and even that felt like a hasty throw-on to cover up the fact that the sport had been hollowed out of her mother’s vision of the world. She couldn’t bear to see that this was really what her mother thought of everything.

Hifumi brought a hand to her forehead and tried to massage the nagging pain out of her left temple.

“I’m not so sure, Queen,” Morgana cautioned.

Makoto’s codename was the one thing out of all this that didn’t come as a surprise to Hifumi.

“Why not?” Makoto asked.

“Because something is clearly weird here. Hifumi-san’s clothes changed. That doesn’t happen unless you’re recognised by the Metaverse in some way,” the cat (?) continued.

Hifumi examined her attire once again. Her hair had been done up into a bun and held together by a drastic amount of bobby pins, her omamori knot missing. She was also wearing a pink kimono with delicate sakura detailing. However, the kimono had been heavily embellished. Golden thread that glittered under light had been woven into the hems of the cloth, and her red obi was much larger than necessary. Her fingernails had been painted over in a matching pink, and she was almost certain that she had fake eyelashes on. The kanji for shogi, 将棋, was embroidered on the kimono in a deep crimson over her heart.

Hifumi traced her fingers over the broad strokes, unable to reconcile these words with the emptiness she felt.

There was also an unmistakable weight on top of her head. Hifumi lifted a hand up to touch it. It had a pointed top and arced neatly over her head. Was it… a crown?

“Do these clothes mean anything, Hifumi-san?” Morgana was speaking to her directly now.

Hifumi blinked at the wide-eyed creature, at a momentary loss for words.

“Hifumi-san?” Morgana tilted his head.

“M-my apologies. I’m just not used to… everything.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Takamaki placed her hand on Hifumi’s shoulder. “You can trust us.”

“Yes, of course.” Hifumi cleared her throat. “As for this get-up… I have no idea how it got on me. It looks like the sort of thing my mother would want me to wear, but that’s all.”  

“Well, you do look cute.”

Hifumi ducked her head and hoped that that was enough to convey her thanks and her embarrassment at Takamaki’s statement.

“-But she’s definitely not dressed to infiltrate a Palace, don’t you think?” Takamaki quickly added.

“We should use this to our advantage then, even if we’re unclear what’s Hifumi-san’s role in all of this,” Morgana insisted.

“What do we know about the Metaverse anyway?” Sakamoto barged in. “She’s her daughter, maybe her brain waves are linked with hers in some way, or something? I don’t know.”

“That wasn’t the case for my father’s Palace,” Okumura said by way of gentle reminder.

Sakamoto considered this information. He paused, scrunched his brow, before declaring, “Okay, I’ve got nothing.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, buddy. We haven’t even stepped into the Palace yet,” Sakura snickered into her fist.

Sakamoto shot an insulted glare at Sakura. Before he could make a comeback, Akira had stepped in, removing his hands from his pockets to ask for everyone’s attention. “In any case, Mona has a point. Let’s take Hifumi-san with us for now. It is her mother’s Palace after all. Maybe her presence will make it easier for us to get past any security measures or difficult Shadows.”

“But, Joker-” Makoto started.

“It’s alright,” Hifumi said, ignoring the shiver that ran down to her ankles. “I’ll… I’ll make sure I won’t get in anyone’s way. I need to confirm for myself what my mother thinks of me.”

Akira nodded wordlessly, according her a respect that made her miss their practice matches at the church. She hoped that those days weren’t over just yet.

Makoto too was silent, but she motioned for Hifumi to stay behind her as the group huddled together and decided their plan of action. Akira selected Sakamoto, Takamaki and Okumura to take the lead with him. They would enter through the front doors and try their luck, since Hifumi was with them. If they could trick the Shadows into thinking they were part of Hifumi’s entourage, perhaps they could earn a direct audience with the CEO of the Togo Talent Agency.

“Togo-san may have a Palace, but we don’t need to overestimate her power. She’s small fry compared to what we’ve just accomplished with Okumura. Let’s try to get this done quick,” Morgana said, punching his paws together.

Hifumi kept her silence through the discussion.

She’d acted the part of the brave ranger, but Hifumi wondered how truly ready she was to meet her mother head on in this alternate world. She didn’t know what she could say to dissuade the Phantom Thieves from their plan, or to let them know that she hadn’t been planning on doing any of this from the start. At this point, she knew she couldn’t back out. Not when Makoto had brought everyone together.

She slapped herself lightly on the cheek and told herself to stay composed. It seemed that the Phantom Thieves engaged in combat in the Metaverse. Hifumi wondered if this meant that she could summon a heavenly lightning strike or a great blade that would slash through evil. She extended an arm and flexed her hand, but nothing materialised.

Before she could try again, the group had started their advance towards the Palace. Hifumi trailed behind Makoto, her gaze drifting over her shoulders, coming to rest on something that was stuck on Makoto’s back. It looked very familiar. Hifumi leaned closer and gasped to herself when she saw what it was. When would be a good time to bring this up?

As the rest filed into the building, Makoto came to a sudden stop at the doors of the Palace. Her whole body froze, as if in shock.

“Is something the matter, Makoto-san?” Hifumi asked.

“… I can’t move,” Makoto said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

Kitagawa was beside them, grunting even though his legs were planted on the ground. “I can’t seem to be able to move either.”

Everyone turned back to gaze at them.

“What do you mean you can’t? We all walked straight in here just fine.“ Sakamoto hunched his shoulders.

“We simply can’t. It’s like there’s a wall preventing us from stepping forward.” Kitagawa knocked the air in front of him with his knuckles. No sound came forth, but Hifiumi didn’t think of him as the type to play a prank.

“Alright wise guy, come here—Woah!” Sakamoto nearly fell down when he tried to walk back. “I can’t walk back? What the hell’s going on?” He spun around, feeling the air around him.

“Is this a trap?” Takamaki clutched her hand to her collar, her gaze falling on Akira, who was just as confused as everyone else.

As Sakamoto desperately tested which directions he could walk in, Hifumi saw that something was also stuck on the back of his suit.

She lowered her eyes to the floor and realised that the usual flooring of the building was lined with grids.

Everything clicked.

“… It’s because you’re a Silver General.”

“A what?” Sakamoto furrowed his brow. 

“On your back, you have a shogi piece. It’s the Silver General.” Hifumi stepped through the threshold and advanced towards him to check. The walls of the reception room were covered in beauty shots of Hifumi. She kept her eyes glued to Sakamoto’s shoulders.

“Yes. This is the Silver General. They can only take a diagonal step back on the board.”

She gestured an open palm to the floor, and everyone else seemed to catch on.

Sakamoto hopped to the tile diagonally behind him. There was nothing blocking him now.

“Kitagawa-san, you must be the bishop. They can’t move forward, only diagonally up and down. Makoto is the knight, a piece which jumps over one square diagonally.” Hifumi explained.

Kitagawa stepped out to his left, and was able to enter the building at last. Makoto, who swung her arms back and leapt, landed one square in front of him.

“Let me see everyone else’s pieces. We need to understand the rules of this in order to win.”

Hifumi clattered about the reception room in her geta shoes. Strange—she didn’t seem to be part of the board. No one else mentioned this, probably because they were more concerned about their own designations. Akira was the King. Takamaki was the Gold General. Sakura was the Rook. Okumura was the Lance. Lastly, there was Morgana, the Pawn.

The shogi pieces stuck on everyone were the size of the ones used in normal matches. Despite their smallness, it seemed impossible to remove them. Sakamoto and Takamaki took turns trying to pry them off each other to no avail.

“It appears this Palace is both a talent agency and a shogi board,” Kitagawa concluded after everyone had memorised the rules of their shogi pieces. “… How bizarre.”

“We’ve been in an airborne bank _and_ a spaceship. I guess the bizarre is just our thing now,” Takamaki sighed. Despite her complaint, there was a fondness in her voice.

How funny, that such a simple statement from one of them was all it took for Hifumi to reaffirm her belief in the Phantom Thieves. They truly were a group of people who wanted to help those in need.

But if that was the case, did she really deserve their help? Was her mother truly a monster? What warranted the need to change a person’s heart? What if all that her mother had planned out for her was how it was meant to be? All the uncertainties that had been gnawing at her had finally found form in this barrage of questions she was asking herself.

She’d been distracted by the sight of the shogi pieces and the board. Why did she talk about ‘winning’ just now? What was there to win? There was no match if you had already resigned to your loss.

Hifumi should have been more upfront with Makoto. She would’ve been if she knew that Makoto had the ability to change hearts.

The thought of changing her mother’s heart sent a wave of nausea rippling through Hifumi. This was made worse by the pounding in her head. She bent over and screwed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself. Her heart was jumping again. Why was she so scared? What was she scared of?

“Hifumi? What’s the matter?” Makoto voice came from somewhere behind her. She was still near the entrance, careful not to make a hasty move.

Hifumi shook her head, unable to find the words. She didn’t know what had come over her, just that she couldn’t move.

“What’s happening?” Takamaki banged her heel on the floor.

“Don’t look at me! I don’t know!” Sakura said in a panic.

Okumura alighted gently at her side and was now stroking her back. “Do you think we should get her out of here?”

The voices ricocheting back and forth seemed louder than they actually were. In the distance, she could hear footsteps approaching. The sound of high heels clicking against tile.

“Miss Hifumi?” a stranger’s voice called in a deep gurgle. It wasn’t a human voice.

“A Shadow!” Sakura shouted.

Before Hifumi could make sense of what was happening, Akira leapt onto the female figure dressed in a blouse and pencil skirt, and ripped off its mask. A black substance oozed out of the wound, suspended in the air for a brief second before it reformed itself into three imposing beasts. Okumura held an arm out in front of Hifumi, signaling to her to move back.

“Don’t move without thinking! Watch your feet!” Akira shouted.

“Damnit!” Sakamoto cursed.

But the beasts, all similar in appearance—women with manes of golden hair, riding atop bright orange horses—held their ground. Hifumi could hear another set of footsteps now, and she fell backwards onto her hands. She knew who it was.

Her long, blue satin dress glittered with flashing diamonds and her jet black hair had been curled perfectly, bouncing in time with her stride. In one hand, she held a matching diamond-studded microphone. In the other was a pair of large sunglasses, which she slid over her eyes.

Her mother was not alone. A creature, also dressed in blue, hovered behind her. It only had two arms, but it was holding a bulky camera with a bright light equipped, a light reflector, and a takeaway cup of coffee. It seemed like it was going to collapse under all the weight.

“There you are, Hifumi. My secretaries were looking everywhere for you. You do know that we can't get started without you, don't you?” Her mother spoke into the mike, which amplified her voice so that it resounded throughout the building. The others had to cover their ears. Hifumi’s head hurt so much, it didn't make a difference to her.

The light the cameraman held up was harsh. Hifumi squinted as she got up onto unsteady feet. She couldn’t just dissolve into anxiety, not with so many people here, willing to help her. She drew back the sleeves of her kimono. Her hands were shaking, but being able to grab onto her arms helped.

“... Mother, is this what you truly feel?” Hifumi closed her eyes, not from pain or the light, but from the feeling that she would cry at any moment. She couldn't. She hadn't earned the tears. “I was foolish to hope that at least somewhere, deep down, you understood how much father and I valued shogi.”

The shadow of her mother raised one sharp eyebrow at her. “Shogi? Why are we still talking about that? Don't waste my time, Hifumi. You're coming with me this instant.”

Hifumi refused to budge.

“Hey, don't ignore us! We're here too!” Sakamoto yelled, swinging his mace.

Her mother's eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, and Hifumi almost thought that she had completely disregarded Sakamoto. But then, she clicked her tongue.

“If these fans of yours are getting in the way, we'll just have to dispose of them.” Her mother decided with a snap of her fingers.

The women on the horses suddenly erupted with screeches and jumped into action. Okumura shoved Hifumi back with a quiet ‘sorry!’ as the first team charged forward. Hifumi felt her heart drop, and then rise again from the pit of her stomach, as four gigantic silhouettes emerged before her eyes. They were bathed in a bright glow and awash in blue flames. The exact opposite of a shadow.

As the two sides clashed, one horsewomen slipped through the defenses of the first team, and headed straight for Hifumi.

Hifumi edged back, holding her breath. She wondered if she could summon a Persona in this world if she willed hard enough. The sound of a motorcycle’s roar shattered this thought, and Hifumi could only gape in awe Makoto skidded to a halt between her and the advancing shadow.

“Stay back!” she warned. Her eyes were ablaze with a murderous intent.

Before the horsewoman could begin her attack, a blast of white energy engulfed her and sent her sprawling back. Kitagawa and Morgana did not wait for her to recover as they bounded forth, their blades glinting in unison, and slashed cleanly through the shadow. Through all this, Hifumi felt her heart thrum with adrenaline. She hadn’t expected combat to be so fast-paced. In her head and on the shogi board, the attackers would always wait their turn.

The motorcycle Makoto had been riding on a moment ago dissipated in a shower of flames behind her. She stood squarely in front of Hifumi as her mother stormed forward, a grimace on her face. More Shadows in officewear lined up behind her. 

“I’ve had enough of this. You’re coming with me right now, Hifumi!” She raised her voice into the microphone, and everyone plugged their ears at the sudden blast.

Hifumi gripped her hands at her sides. She couldn’t just stand by while everyone else was fighting. Her fingers were still shivering, whether with fear or with exhilaration, she couldn’t tell the difference now. She had to think of something, fast. Just visualise something, anything. Imagine if this was just another battle on the shogi board. What would she say to a demonic overlord? 

Hifumi kept her gaze glued to the floor. She still couldn’t look her mother in the eyes.

“... I’m sorry Mother, but I won’t play by your rules any longer.”

Her mother swiftly removed her sunglasses, revealing yellow-coloured irises that bore right through Hifumi.

“Say that again, dear.”

She thought of an epic warrior, draped in magnificent robes, holding a golden blade in their right hand, commanding a mighty steed with their other.

But as she summoned her last breath to call upon a saviour,

... nothing came to Hifumi.

★  
★  
★

When Hifumi woke up, she was alone.

She clutched her hand to her forehead, glad that the pain had finally stopped. She was groggy, but could recall bits and pieces of what had happened yesterday night. She was healed by a large figure with an obscenely sharp moustache. She had also gotten her first ride in a limousine. Okumura and Makoto had been with her. They accompanied her past her doorstep, to her room, and made sure she was fine before leaving. She remembered Okumura fawning over her figurine collection, and Makoto having to coax her out of the room.

Hifumi’s stomach growled. It was already past noon. She hadn’t had anything to eat in almost a day, and she had effectively skipped school.

Her head was heavy and numb, as it someone had come in and done a complete overhaul inside her skull. The only reason why she was able to lift herself out of bed was because of her ravenous appetite.

When she wandered out, she saw that something had been left out on the table, covered by cling wrap. It was a simple rice omelette, with ketchup on the side. One of the few things her mother knew how to cook.

Hifumi sat at the dining table and buried her face into her arms. It was only half an hour later, after she had splashed tap water against her eyes and eaten the omelette, that she got up and returned to her room. She needed to work on something, quick.

★

“Did you go back to the Palace today?” was the first thing Hifumi said as she opened the door for Makoto.

Though there were no bruises on her, Makoto looked extremely worn out. She practically crumpled onto the living room floor. Hifumi fetched a can of plum soda from the fridge.

“Yes, we did,” Makoto said without elaborating. Silence hung between the both of them. Hifumi wondered why it was hard to find something to say, after all the unbelievable things that had happened yesterday.

It was Makoto who made the first move. She turned to face Hifumi properly, tucking her feet underneath her as she said, “I’m sorry, Hifumi.” She leaned down in a short bow. “We shouldn’t have done that behind your back.”

Of all things, Hifumi had not anticipated an apology. And yet, after what had occurred yesterday, she wondered what the Phantom Thieves would have done if she had never caught them in the act. They were teenagers, just like her. Adults made terrible mistakes, but so did teenagers. 

“It’s…” she started, before halting.

It wasn’t okay, after all.

“Why have the Phantom Thieves become involved in this? Did you all collectively decide that this was the right thing to do? How do you decide to change a person’s heart? What if they don’t need you to?” Hifumi shook her head. “When I told you about my mother, about my decision… I wasn’t asking for her to change.”

Makoto bit her lip in frustration. “So you were prepared to just bear it all without fighting back?”

“I…” Hifumi had no reply. She hadn’t found the answer to that question yet.

“I couldn’t let that happen, Hifumi. I would never be able to live with it. Your dream—it was being taken away from you. It didn’t matter that it was your mother.”

Hifumi raised her chin. She didn’t like the tone that Makoto had taken. “That still doesn’t give the Phantom Thieves the discretion to change my mother’s heart. That’s just who she is,” she reasoned.

“It’s not, Hifumi. We know something’s up with these people, something’s been changing them.”

Makoto spoke as if some supernatural force had changed her mother. Hifumi wished that were the case. She didn’t know how to tell Makoto plainly that it had just been greed—and, in no small part, it had been because of Hifumi as well.

“I have one more question. Tell me, Makoto. How did you manage to convince the notorious Phantom Thieves to take on this mission?”

Makoto faltered. The plum soda remained unopened in her hands, and she thumbed the top of the can nervously.

“This is between me and my mother. I would assume that the Phantom Thieves have bigger issues to busy themselves with.”

Makoto placed the drink can aside and twisted her hands together. “... It was me. I convinced them that we had to do this. To keep ourselves grounded. You see, we almost broke apart just a month back. We were afraid to act, we let the rumours get to us, and we forgot what we were fighting for. We can’t let the fame get to our heads again.”

“And so, you decided to help a girl who couldn’t help herself?”

“.. That’s not what I meant, Hifumi. I-“

“I know.” Hifumi raised a hand to stop Makoto. She hung her head. “Forgive me for saying that. It was uncalled for… and directed more at myself than at you. I really do appreciate your—everyone’s help.”

She just didn’t know if she was going to do the right thing.

Makoto inched closer and slowly lifted a hand to brush the hair out of Hifumi’s face, back behind her ear. When she saw her expression, she did not say anything. Wordlessly, she pulled Hifumi closer, so dreadfully close that Hifumi’s face was buried in the nook of her neck. She tensed at the feeling of Makoto’s hands on her back and the press of her lips against the fabric of the Shujin High uniform. As she felt Makoto’s rapid heartbeat, and the calming rise and fall of her chest, she relaxed.

Carefully, as if about to step onto a landmine, she inhaled the faint smell of metal and plums. Was it from the knucklebusters that Makoto fought with, or the lingering aftertaste of sweat? Hifumi didn’t mind. She had grown so familiar with this comforting scent and these warm hands.

She quieted her heart and collected her thoughts, holding onto this precious moment for as long as she was willing to allow herself. Then, she leaned back and looked into Makoto’s kind, kind eyes. She had decided.

“… Please, let me go with the Phantom Thieves tomorrow.”

She grabbed the copy of _Habu’s Words_ she’d placed on the coffee table, and slipped a piece of paper out from between the leaves of the book. It was a calling card, or the beginnings of one. Hifumi knew that these were part of the Phantom Thieves’ method.

Judging from the softening of her mouth and the gradual crease of her brow, Makoto was not surprised by her question. If anything, she had been expecting it.

“I still don’t agree with what you’ve started, but I need to see it through till the end. She’s my mother, after all.” Hifumi said, holding the piece of paper out. 

Makoto would have probably put up a fight on any other day. But tonight, she was too drained from fighting in the Palace. Or maybe, a part of her still believed in Hifumi.

She took the draft from Hifumi and scanned through what she’d written:

“To Mitsuko Togo and Hifumi Togo, the false queens of fame. You have brought dishonour on the Togo family and the legacy of shogi, and have lost sight of your dreams. We know that you use lies and deceit to earn favour, and tarnish the names of all those you’ve manipulated. You have even deceived yourselves into believing you deserve glory, when all you've done is step on others to tread the corrupted path to stardom. The Phantom Thieves will now steal your cursed hearts. May the blade of true justice be brought down to judge you.”

Hifumi twiddled her thumbs as Makoto read out loud.

“What do you think?”

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Makoto said with a humouring smile. Then, her eyebrow raised with a question. “Why did you address it to both you and your mother?”

“It’s more believable that way. No one would target my mother without targeting me now,” Hifumi explained. _And, I deserve it too._ This, Hifumi did not say.

“That’s true,” Makoto agreed.

“So we’ll go together and steal her heart tomorrow, then?”

Makoto balked. “No, no. We’d need to first find the Treasure, and then make her aware we’re stealing it by leaving the calling card. And… it’s just not possible for us to get all that done tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Hifumi asked.

Makoto took a deep breath before sighing it all out. “The truth is, we haven’t made much progress. We usually work out the infiltration route in a day, but we’re only halfway through the Palace now. There’s a lot more Shadows than usual—Futaba-chan said double the average, in fact. Not forgetting our restricted movements on the office floors. Akira-kun and I have learned a lot from you, but we’re still a bit too slow at directing everyone for our liking and we can’t strategise on the fly. We had to get out of quite a few nasty ambushes today.”

“That’s precisely why you need me, don’t you?”

If she couldn’t play shogi anymore, she could at least be useful for her friends.

“Hifumi…” Makoto seemed to be relenting.

“I used to be your shogi master,” Hifumi reminded her.

“Used to be? You are,” Makoto corrected.

Hifumi shook her head. “I’m not. Not anymore.” It still hurt to say it, but Hifumi would have to get used to it.

Instead of comforting her, Makoto stared hard at Hifumi, then at the calling card script in her hands. She was thinking about something. Intensely. Hifumi wondered if she was having second thoughts now.

Makoto spent a moment longer in deep contemplation before realisation washed over her face. She turned to Hifumi and nodded. 

“You’re right. Let’s do this tomorrow. I’ll get Yusuke-kun to produce the calling card, and we’ll slip it under your front door before your mother gets back tonight.” She was already taking her handphone out to call Kitagawa.

Had she heard Makoto correctly?

“What made you change your mind?”

“Because I realised we won’t have any other chance after tomorrow.”

Hifumi did not know what Makoto meant, but she chose not to second guess her. They had no time to waste.

★

On her second visit to the Togo Talent Agency, Hifumi’s hands were no longer quivering. Her head, on the other hand, began to ache the moment she laid eyes on the Palace. She pushed through the nagging pain, and joined the circle that had formed near the gates.

“Alright, summary time.” Sakura clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “There’s double the amount of Shadow activity than usual, but the good news is that the Palace is much smaller than usual too. We’re only ten floors away from what appears to be the CEO’s office and the Treasure.”

“Might be because the corruption of this ruler isn’t as bad as the previous ones,” Morgana offered.

“Not as bad, but clearly just as obsessed. We haven’t run into a Shadow that hasn’t been looking for Hifumi-chan,” Takamaki said with a roll of her eyes.

Hifumi had asked everyone to call her by her first name. These people were helping her fight, the least she could do was to treat her comrades on the battlefield like comrades. It would take some getting used to. It had been a long time since someone other than her mother, Makoto and Akira had called her by her name.

“And we’re working with a special case today. The calling card has been sent ahead of time and we haven’t planned the infiltration route. Everyone keep a look out for the Treasure and remember to listen to Hifumi-san’s directions,” Akira said coolly, pulling on his gloves. He seemed like a whole other person in the Metaverse. But then again, so did everyone else.

Despite the drastic change in routine and the ticking deadline, the Phantom Thieves seemed oddly collected. Hifumi wondered if this was because she had underestimated them from first impressions, or whether they had had a pep talk beforehand.

“Alright, let’s do it!” Sakamoto pumped his fist.

“Hifumi-chan, we’re counting on you too,” Okumura said with an easy smile.

“Right.” Hifumi nodded. She didn’t know if anyone could take her seriously in her get-up, but she wouldn’t let it get in the way. 

★

Hifumi learned all too quickly, that the Phantom Thieves moved fast. They also picked their battles, which Hifumi was thankful for because it took awhile to adjust to the speed of combat. And whenever she faltered, whether because of the persistent tiredness in her body or an unexpected ambush, Makoto and Akira were there to cover for her. She had taught them well, and they had developed their own styles in battle. Akira favoured feigning and launching sneak attacks. Makoto moved with tact and a forwardness that would blindside Shadows.

Hifumi’s headache worsened as they sped up the building. But, instead of feeling like she was going to pass out, she felt like she was on a team.

After that last battle, the group entered a holding room with a carpeted floor. Apart from a long staircase and a few sitting chairs, there was nothing else worth noting. Sakamoto immediately fell back onto his rear.

“Finally! I’m never going to play shogi again for the rest of my life!” he said almost too enthusiastically.

“When have you ever tried?” Morgana sneered.

“Oh yeah? Alright, wise guy. You and me. Shogi match in the real world. Let’s see you move your pieces with those itty bitty paws of yours!” Sakamoto challenged.

“Hey, no fair!” Morgana retorted.

“Let’s rest up and check our inventory,” Akira said, brushing over the two’s argument. 

Hifumi took the breather to assess everyone else. Some of them had sustained injuries from the earlier battles, when she had just started getting accustomed to everyone’s unique attack patterns. She hadn’t been as quick to divvy up formations at the beginning, and that had cost them quite a bit. She looked on as Kitagawa tried to kick out the strain in his leg and Okumura cracked the kinks out of her neck. Morgana had finished healing up Takamaki and Sakamoto, and had now moved on to them.

“... If only I could fight,” Hifumi couldn’t help but say to herself. She pulled on her kimono sleeves to distract herself from the frustration.

“We’ve already done much better with you around today. We still have enough healing items to keep us going,” Makoto said in her usual encouraging way. She took off her mask, and wiped the sweat out of her eyes. 

Okumura walked up to them and offered another smile. “It’s alright, Hifumi-chan. I understand how agitating it can be. It took me awhile to manifest my Persona too.”

Hifumi wanted to believe she could summon a Persona. But after what happened the previous time she was here, and what she thought of herself, she knew that she didn’t have the strength of heart needed for such a feat.

“Thank you, Okumura-san,” she still said. To be polite. 

“Haru,” the older girl said.

“Haru-san,” Hifumi said with a nod.

“Guys, I think this is it.” Sakura piped up. She showed her laptop screen to the group.

Above the long staircase, there was only one room left. The CEO’s office.

★

Akira pushed the oak-carved doors wide open, revealing a wide office with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The high chandelier was the most notable fixture in the room, and it sparkled with pompous opulence. The office had a breathtaking view of night-time Shibuya below. In the middle of the room was a golden desk. Her mother leaned against it, and the cameraman stood obediently beside her.

Hifumi felt herself instinctively step back, behind Makoto and Takamaki. She’d been psyching herself up for this, but when push came to shove, her gut told her to retreat. There was a dark, foreboding power in this room, and she didn’t know why, but she felt like it had control over her.

“Hifumi? Is that you? Come here, I’ll forgive you for misbehaving if you do as I say from now on.” Her mother’s voice was equally loud up here as it was downstairs.

“Hey, don’t talk to Hifumi-san that way!” Sakamoto growled. “She ain’t your puppet!”

“Really now? Does she have anything to say about that I wonder, hmm?”

Hifumi felt her voice catch in her throat. Something was weighing down on her, as if it was suffocating her. Takamaki put her hand on her shoulder once again, but it wasn’t working as well as it did last time.

“Okay, time’s up. Those in show business can’t afford to wait for their stars to get over themselves.”

Her mother snapped her fingers.

The cameraman beside her straightened his posture. Then, he opened his mouth, and a loud roar rocked the entire floor. He fell forward onto his hands, his gear clattering all over as he jerked his limbs in all directions. He was growing bigger, his clothes tearing at the seams as a tail extended out from the back of his body. Hands sharpened into claws as his neck stretched forward and he bent his face down before raising it up again to reveal a dragon’s maw.

“Holy shit!” Sakamoto remarked.

As the gleaming blue dragon raised itself onto its hind legs, her mother appeared on top of it. The golden desk had turn into a throne atop the dragon’s head. Next to it was a thin, human-sized cage.

“Attack!” Akira called out, not wasting any time. “Pinpoint its weakness!”

Hifumi shielded her face as a luminous army of Personas peeled out from the backs of the team and unleashed a volley of elemental attacks upon the monster. A tower of flames burst out from the floor, accompanied by a raging hurricane that whipped itself squarely into the dragon’s arm. Sakamoto summoned Captain Kidd, who struck a bolt of lightning down the centre of the dragon’s head as a follow-up.

However, the dragon remained standing through the onslaught without so much as a mere scratch. It stretched its jowls and let out a shrill cry, as if provoking them to try once more.

“I don’t think it has a weakness! Its hide is too thick!” Sakura reported.

“Alright, fall back, everyone! Use physical attacks from a distance,” Akira said, shifting his gaze to either side to make sure everyone had heard.

Before they could react, the dragon’s tail flicked back and lurched forward at an alarming speed, knocking the Phantom Thieves back like they had been bowling pins.

Hifumi jolted as Takamaki and Makoto slammed against the floor near her feet. She bent down to help Makoto, feeling a shiver course down her spine. She looked up to find her mother staring her down from the top of the dragon.

Hifumi’s entire body tensed up. She had to say something.

“Why are you doing this, Mother?”  

Her mother looked genuinely amused. “Don’t make it sound like this is all my doing, dear daughter. I don’t want to take all the credit for this. It just wouldn’t be right.” She sighed as she raised her hand in the air.

“Why don’t we show everyone the truth?”

Hifumi’s heart, which had been palpitating wildly just a moment ago, stopped.

“Come here, Hifumi. Now!”

Her mother snapped her fingers again.

Hifumi felt the wind get knocked out of her lungs. And when opened her eyes, she found herself next to her mother, trapped inside the cage.

“A cognition shift? She shouldn’t be able to do that! Unless…” Sakura gasped.

“It seems your theory was right, Makoto-san,” Kitagawa said as the group took cautious steps back, distancing themselves from the dragon as it clawed at the air.

“We’ve never come across something like this before!” Morgana cried out.

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Haru said. She drew her battle axe out and fell back into a fighting stance.

“...What is the meaning of this?” Hifumi asked. Her voice was so soft, she doubted anyone had heard her. As she registered everyone’s words, she slowly came to the conclusion herself.

“I’ll let you all feel special just before I crush you,” her mother laughed vindictively. “Yes, you’re all right. This is a shared Palace!”

If a Palace was the manifestation of negative thoughts and emotions, then, a shared Palace meant that there was more than one host. Hifumi let go of the bars of the cage to look at herself one more time—at the sickening pink of the kimono, at her carefully manicured nails. She had found this attire odd, but she had also never questioned it.

She had never questioned anything about this Palace or its Shadow.

Because she believed in it as much as her mother.

This was who she saw herself as.

“Hifumi!” A voice. Who’s voice? She didn’t care anymore.

“Hifumi! I’m sorry!”

Sorry? No, she was the one who had to be sorry. She was the cause of all this.

Hifumi felt her knees give way underneath her. The thoughts in her head slowed, until there was only one left.

Perhaps she did belong on this side after all.

“You were so very smart to send the calling card when you did. Hifumi herself already had the strongest impression that you were going to take the Treasure, and you deduced that that precious moment would only last until today,” her mother said in a mock-congratulatory tone before leering at the group. “Now, I’ll reward you by disposing of you personally!”

Her ear-splitting cackle mingled with the roar of the dragon as it raised its head back, opened its jaws, and let loose a gushing stream of electric blue flames down onto the Phantom Thieves. Their shouts of alarm were drowned out by the thunderous bellows of the dragon. The unexpected barrage had caught them completely unaware.

When the smoke died down, Akira and Makoto were propped up on one knee each, struggling to stand. Kitagawa and Haru were shuddering uncontrollably. They had been shocked by the electricity. Takamaki and Sakamoto were the only ones left standing, and they moved in tandem to assist the others.

“We can’t do this without Hifumi! The only reason why it’s so crazy strong is because it’s a shared cognition between two people!” Sakura explained frantically.

“We’ll heal everyone up! Makoto, make her snap out of it!” Takamaki instructed.

Hifumi looked away from the scene below, unsure of what to do next. Her hands were shaking again, and her heart no longer felt like it was hers. When had things gone wrong? Had it been from the very beginning? Her obsession to succeed in shogi had led to this, hadn’t it? Her father’s words, once spoken kindly, were now a bitter medicine at the back of her throat. A sharp mind. A dragon’s heart. An iron will. This situation—this Palace—was standing proof that she had lost all of those qualities. Or perhaps, she had never possessed them to begin with. She’d just deceived herself, just like her mother.

“Snap her out of it? You don’t snap someone out of who they are!” her mother spat the taunt into the microphone. Her voice completely overshadowed everyone else’s.

“Now, Mona!” Makoto shouted.

Hifumi looked up, and saw that Morgana had sneaked up along the back wall, pounced, and ricocheted off the chandelier onto the dragon’s head. He purred with satisfaction as he knocked the diamond microphone out of her mother’s grip, sending it flying down and into Makoto’s waiting hands.

“My mike!” her mother shrieked.

The dragon swung its claw down at Makoto, but it got diverted by a shower of shots from Milady. All the Phantom Thieves were now focusing on keeping the dragon’s firepower off Makoto.

“Hifumi!” She could hear Makoto. She was calling out to her again, except now, she was much louder.

At first, Hifumi moved to cover her ears. She had been so cowardly up till now, and all her deepest uncertainties had been exposed, there was no need to hammer them in with empty words.

But, Makoto’s words were never empty.

Hifumi’s hands froze in mid-air. Something had stopped her. It was an ache in her chest which would not go away. Even if she could never be like Makoto, or ever tell her how she truly felt—even when she was engulfed in self-loathing, Hifumi still yearned for her, somehow. She closed her eyes and let herself be foolish, one last time.

“Hifumi! Don’t give in! You know you’re more than your weakness,” Makoto’s words were steeped with tenderness. “I know you’re more than your weaknesses. I…”

She took a deep breath in.

“... _I fell in love with the you who loves shogi!_ ” she yelled with abandon.

Hifumi felt her eyes burn with tears.

“You could never throw away shogi. Don’t lie to yourself or your mother! Now come back down here and face her properly!”

“Fuck yeah, Makoto! You tell em’!” Sakamoto whooped so loudly, his voice was picked up by the microphone as well.

Hifumi laughed despite herself. It was so inappropriate, and yet, it had successfully snapped her out of her self-indulgent wallowing. Did the Phantom Thieves always resort such unorthodox methods?

As unconventional as they were, Hifumi could not help but draw a comparison to how she used to play shogi. How she earned disapproving looks and paid them no mind. How she dispersed her troops, named them, gave each and every one a heroic backstory. How once, she had celebrated the losses more than the wins. How she always knew she could be better. How she had spent unforgettable afternoons with her father and mother over an old, dusty shogi board.

She didn’t deserve shogi, but she still loved it with all her heart.

Hifumi grabbed onto the bars of the cage and pulled herself onto her feet, kicking off her geta shoes. Hifumi began undoing her obi and raking out the pins in her hair.

The Shadow cupped its hand to its mouth. “Hifumi? What are you doing?! You’re ruining it!”

Hifumi yanked off her fake eyelashes, gritting her teeth. “Then I’ll ruin it. I’ll ruin everything and start again from the beginning.”

The crown on her head clattered on the floor.

“You think it’s that easy? Do you know how far we’ve climbed up? You’ll never make it to the top again if you disobey me! You have no right to do this. I was the one who made you who you are today. You listen to me!” the Shadow threatened, but the undercurrent of fear in its voice was unmistakable.

Hifumi blinked the tears out of her eyes.

“Whoever I chose to be until now, was as much my doing as my mother’s.”

Hifumi could never put all the blame on her mother. She would have to live with this shame, this regret, and this knowledge for the rest of her life.

The hardest form of punishment was repentance.

_“Are you finally ready to face the truth of your weakness?”_

The pain that had been building at the back of her head suddenly burst like a balloon. Hifumi dropped onto the cage floor, holding her head in her quivering hands. It felt like something had driven deep inside her skull and was now trying to worm itself back out, violently and eagerly.

_“Never forget how you’ve erred and carry it with you for the rest of your days. And if you so desire to reclaim what you’ve lost, I’ll give you that second chance. Bear this burden, and I’ll be your champion.”_

“... Yes. I’m ready.”

Through the haze of pain, she felt a mask materialise over her eyes. It was long and bony, and seared into her skin. The pain and heat was unforgiving. Hifumi desperately clutched onto it and tore it off with a strangled scream.

★

“Hifumi?!”

She opened her eyes to find herself back on the ground, between Sakamoto and Makoto. She coughed out the saliva she had choked on, and steadily got on her feet. Her kimono was gone, and a ring of blue flames was enveloping her, giving her a strength that she’d never felt before. Her head was finally light, as if the weight that had been tying it down had been thrown off.

Above her, the dragon bared its fangs, and the Shadow rose up from the throne.

Hifumi took a step forward.

“I’ve always doubted myself, even when it came to shogi. So, I wished for a way to prove that I was as good at it. I loved it so much, I thought it was natural for me to be proficient at it. I refused to see the deceit that was happening in front of me. I clung to the role of the helpless daughter, allowed myself to be moulded into whatever my mother wanted, just because it was easier. My troops don’t deserve a spineless ruler like me.” She guarded these words, drilled them into her heart.

“I was going to cast them aside. But that would have just been another easy way out.”

She exchanged a look with Makoto, and hoped it would be enough to convey her thanks, just for now. It had dawned on Hifumi that she couldn’t be an ignorant queen anymore. She had to join the battle now, no longer as a commander, but as a soldier. One who would finally fight for what she wanted.

The dragon reared back and let out a ferocious roar. The Phantom Thieves stood their ground, and Hifumi locked eyes with the Shadow. She could see the panic shining deliriously in the Shadow’s eyes.

“I won’t play the role of victimised daughter anymore! Not for my mother’s sake, and certainly not for mine!”

Then, she felt a tremendous presence descend at her side, and looked up.

They were riding on the back of a black, ferocious-looking horse with an array of flowers braided into its mane. The androgynous being had their hair tied up into the shape of a magnolia in full bloom, and wore gorgeous, dark lamellar armour that shimmered under the light. They raised a sleek, golden bow in one hand, and in the other, they held the red, knotted reins of their steed. One of their arms was covered up to the wrist, whereas the sleeve on their other side had been ripped off. On their bare skin, Hifumi saw a burning dragon tattoo snake its way from their shoulder right into the palm of their hand.

The Persona gazed down and nodded to her right hand.

An elegant naginata had taken form in the seat of her palm. She squeezed it and tested its weight. While doing this, she realised that she was now wearing proper clothes. Lifting her cloak up, she saw that underneath, dragon scales had covered her arms up to her wrists, and had even spread down her legs. She wore a sturdy armour plate over her chest, and beneath it, a tunic that reached just before her knees. Her legs finally felt mobile again.

She flexed her feet. This was the best part of the entire outfit. She had dragon talons.

Hifumi lifted a hand to her face. Her mask had come back. It was the top half of a fractured dragon’s skull. 

A grin broke out across her face.

“Let’s turn the tide, Mulan!”

★

As the Phantom Thieves sprang back into the fray, Hifumi felt Mulan whisper into her ear.

“Matarukaja!”

Halos of green light appeared over everyone, granting them an extra boost in strength. Akira turned back to her and tilted his chin show his appreciation. He then followed up with another skill that increased the team’s defenses.

Hifumi turned her attention to the Shadow, and called out the next attack, certain it would reach.

“Megidola!”

Mulan pulled back an arrow from their quiver, and shot it towards the dragon’s head. The arrow broke apart into two orbs of pure energy, which detonated the moment they touched the dragon’s body. The dragon cried in pain, and the Shadow fell back from the impact of the blast. It scrambled onto its feet, clambering over the overturned throne and cage. Its hair was dishevelled, and its make-up smeared.

“Hifumi! Stop this right now! How could you?! You refuse to be an idol, you refuse to help me even after I’ve given all my time and energy to you? You even went behind my back and got into a relationship? How much do you want to disappoint me?!”

Hifumi raised her naginata, pointing it straight at the Shadow.

“If I remember clearly, the only thing my mother said was that I was not allowed to date boys.”

The Shadow’s eye twitched.

Before it could say another word, it toppled back once again as the dragon took a heavy blow to the head. Courtesy of a combination strike from Makoto and Haru.

“A few more hits guys!” Sakura cheered them on.

“No, no no!” the Shadow howled. “I won’t allow this!”

The dragon raised its head, preparing to unleash another blast of electric flames.

Hifumi saw the opportunity in an instant.

“Makoto! Haru-san! The chandelier! Akira-kun, help them get up there!”

Akira threaded his hands together to form a step hold, bracing his shoulders as Haru skipped onto him before flinging her upwards.

“Everyone else, aim for its legs!”

Mulan notched back another arrow and sent it sailing like a bullet into the dragon’s open jaw. The Megidola erupted in the dragon’s throat, preventing it from breathing out flames. It reeled its head back in pain. At the same moment, Kitagawa and Sakamoto delivered a series of bashes into the dragon’s left leg, while Morgana and Takamaki worked on knocking its right leg off balance. Physics was a beautiful thing, and Hifumi was glad that it still worked in the Metaverse.

The dragon, with its long neck still arched back, lost its footing, and suffered from a tremendous crash onto the floor, sending reverberations ringing throughout the building. It began to thrash and writhe about, wrestling with itself to get up. Hifumi looked away just in time to see Makoto and Haru holding hands to steady themselves on the high chandelier.

“Its chest is vulnerable!” Sakura hollered, cupping her hands to her mouth.

The two girls wasted no time leaping off the edge, aiming their feet at the dragon’s chest. As they fell hard and fast, Johanna and Milady flickered in and out of sight before redistributing the light of their bodies into the jutting heels of their partners.

The duo smashed into the dragon like a comet, the impact sending Hifumi's cloak rippling back and Morgana cartwheeling into the air. Sakamoto caught him, even though he himself struggled to stay on his feet.

When the light faded, all they could see was Haru and Makoto helping each other off the deflated belly of the beast, brushing the dust out of their hair.

The dragon had stopped moving. It had finally been defeated.

The Phantom Thieves fell silent as Hifumi stepped forward and Mulan departed from her side. She would handle this alone.

Hifumi watched as the Shadow emerged from underneath the fallen beast, pushing aside debris and cursing and swearing. Its dress was torn and it looked hysterical. It seemed to have only one thing left to say as it staggered up to Hifumi and grabbed a fistful of her cloak.

“You’re an ungrateful daughter,” the Shadow hissed.

Hifumi did not blink.

“You’re not my mother.” she said blankly.

The Shadow stiffened, eyeing her one last time, realising that it no longer had any power over her. It shattered into tiny shards the next moment. Its dress fell in tatters at her feet, and the diamonds that dropped off it twinkled once more before disintegrating.

As the dragon’s unmoving body faded away, Hifumi wandered over to where its heart would’ve been. She picked up the glowing object, feeling it shrink and solidify between her fingers.    

She held the CD up. The handwriting on it, in a thick black marker, was her mother’s.

_Hifumi’s First Loss._

Her hands were shaking again. She pressed hard her thumbs hard into the material of the CD, her eyes burning, her heart hammering, urging her to do it. Snap. Quickly. Effortlessly. Painfully.

If she could put all the blame on this CD, mark it as the source of the twisted wishes and the pain her family had to bear for the last ten years—

It would have been too easy.

She couldn’t. It was her and her mother’s treasure.

Instead, she held the CD to her heart.

★  
★  
★

“Guys! We need to leave! Now!!” Morgana signalled to everyone by transforming into a van.

And Hifumi had just been getting used to him being a talking cat.

She had no time to be dazed, apparently. Makoto grabbed her by the hand and led her into the backseat of Morgana (?).

Takamaki was the last to squeeze in, and she slammed the door behind her. “Go, Mona!”

“On it, Panther!”

Hifumi was squished between Haru and Makoto, and she felt self-conscious about her mask all of a sudden. She removed it from her head and placed it on her lap. She felt her omamori knot unravel itself from behind her ear, where it had been tucked.

“Go, go, go!” Sakura was cheering again, this time as the office fell apart around them. The pillars were giving way and the ceiling lights were bursting and shattering one after the other. As Akira focused on steering them out of harm’s way, Sakamoto turned to address the backseat. 

“Good work back there…” he paused, looking thoughtful for the first time since Hifumi had met him. “Hey! We need a codename for you now!”

“Ooo yeah! What about Dragon!” Sakura suggested.

“I was thinking ‘Warrior’,” Takamaki said instead.

Why were they talking about this now, when everything else outside was disappearing into the oblivion?

Makoto caught the look of confusion on Hifumi’s face. She sighed and whispered, “Everyone’s used to it by now.”

“We haven’t asked Hifumi-san what she wants to be called,” Kitagawa said, subduing the excited conversation.

“What do you want us to call you, Hifumi-chan?” Haru chirped.

Hifumi felt eight pairs of eyes on her now, including Morgana’s. After all that had been said and done, she had never really had a proper introduction to the Phantom Thieves.

If she really was going to start anew, it was going to begin here. Now.

“... You can call me, General.”

**end**

★  
★  
★

She knocked lightly on the door before sliding it aside. It had felt like ages since she last visited, even though it had really only been a week. She could never get used to the smell of sanitizer in the air.

Her father was sitting up on his bed, looking out the window at the clouds drifting by. He turned when he heard the door open, looking alert and expectant. She probably should have called to let him know she was going to be a little late. Her mother had finally relented on her part-timing at the neighbourhood florist, and so she had detoured to submit her application before heading to the hospital.

“I see you’ve brought a friend,” he said, warm and inviting.

As Makoto went to refill the jug of water at her father’s bedside, Hifumi sat down beside him and placed her hand over his. From her pocket, she took out a CD case and offered it to her father.

A smile, one that had never changed since he had first introduced her to shogi ten years ago, spread across his face.

“Are you still playing shogi?”

“... Yes.”

Hifumi smiled too.

It was a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> — Thank you very much to Rio & Aq, who helped me beta-read this (:
> 
> — Something I found out after deciding on Hifumi's persona was that there's a crater on Venus that was named after 'Hua Mulan'. What are the odds!
> 
> — On a related note, Mulan's most common last name is Hua (flower). The name Mulan itself refers to the magnolia flower.
> 
> — I wanted to explore the idea of a 'Shared Palace', in that, what if you and someone else close to you, viewed each other in exactly the same way, and together, your negative thoughts could form a coherent Palace? To that effect, the Shadow in the Togo Palace is not directly fueled by Mitsuko's desires, but also by Hifumi's own perspective on her mother. Hence, why the Shadow isn't actually her mother. I also didn't want to paint Mitsuko as a completely pure evil being.
> 
> — I understand that there are parent-child r/s which don't get resolved so easily and can't be blamed on 'Palaces'... nor should anyone blame themselves if they aren't able to 'save themselves' from toxic relationships. Please, reach out for help. The reason why Hifumi was able to pull herself out was not only because of self-realisation, but because she had friendship/love to anchor her. I feel like both factors are important. The reason why I was unsatisfied w the star confidant in-game was that Hifumi didn't fight back. But, it was in her nature to do that, and I wanted to explore why that was the case. But yeah, the last thing I want to do is downplay or simplify the nature/severity of toxic relationships!


End file.
